The man crossed his arms. "There's no way I'm handing my camera over. No way in hell." Dylan tilted his head and blew at stray locks of hair. His bangs were way too long, the uneven strands seriously needed to be cut. "The pictures are partially why I believe everything that going on, without them I'll just end up thinking I'm going crazy, again." The last bit he hadn't meant to say. That period in his life was one he hated to remember. It had taken years for Dylan to recover from it, and everyone he'd known then avoided him like the plague. Not that he could blame them.